Chapter 87: Rough Clothes.

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: Rough Clothes.

The old rhythms feel good. It’s been so long since he’s moved to them, but it turns out his body still remembers.

As a kid he used to hate them, because kids don’t want order, or routine, or discipline. They want to run wild and free, and do exactly the opposite of what their trainers want them to do.

It’s funny, how things change.

Now, Rogard finds them kind of relaxing. It’s tough, sure, because as absent-minded as Ynoro can be, he keeps an agonisingly steady rhythm, and if he falls off beat for even a moment he’ll get yelled at, but there’s something about the slow, sweeping movements that fills him with a sense of calm.

After a long day of training --much of it frustrating --it feels like a way of clearing his mind.

"Good, Rogard," Drogger tells him when he says just that, and he nods approvingly like Rogard’s gone and said the right thing. "You’re starting to understand."

It’s not like Drogger’s said anything particularly kind, or meaningful, but it’s genuine, and makes Rogard’s cheeks start to warm with delight.

He’s glad he’s already red and sweating, because otherwise it probably would have looked like he was blushing.

"Thanks, Master," he says back with a small smile. Drogger looks at him rather oddly and he quickly wipes it away again in alarm. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"No, just...you look different when you smile for real," he remarks, cocking his head like he’s a little surprised by the thought. Rogard’s a little taken aback by both the out of character comment, and the fact that Drogger can apparently tell when he’s faking a smile.

"I always smile for real, senpai," he chirps, and smiles again to prove it. A vein in Drogger’s forehead twitches but unfortunately Rogard doesn’t notice the dangerous water he’s treading. "You never know who’s falling in love with your smile, after all."

Rogard doesn’t even see the punch coming. It lands squarely on his ribs,right where it’ll ache, and when he looks up through watering eyes, Drogger looks unrepentant.

" And he’s back," Drogger remarks dryly, back to looking decidedly irritated. "Get back to work, Rogard." He knows better than to talk back, so obeys without complaint.

His ribs smart, but there’s something about the expression that Drogger had been wearing only a few moments ago that sticks in Rogard’s mind. Something that he thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing again.

"Is it a good different?" he asks suddenly, and it’s testimony to Drogger’s iron focus that the interruption doesn’t make his movements falter in the slightest. He doesn’t look pleased about it though.

"What?" he asks flatly, glancing Roger’s way, grey eyes cool.

"You said I look different when I smile for real," he reminds him, and for an instant he could have sworn on his life that Drogger looked vaguely alarmed .

It’s gone again just as quickly, replaced by a grimace that seems to indicate regret.

"Forget I said anything," he says firmly, and for some reason it sounds like an apology. "...It wasn’t appropriate."

"So it’s a good different, then," Rogard decides --teases, even --knowing that he’s pushing his luck but doing it anyways.

Drogger drops out of sequence just long enough to clip him behind the ear for his cheek. It’s worth it, and Ynoro chuckles at the thinly veiled pain in his old friend’s thunderous expression.

"...You shouldn’t frown so much, Master," Rogard chides, not breaking out of time even though his ear is smarting something awful to go along with his ribs.

Both sides of them. And the back of his head. He’ll probably pay for his lip later, but he’s got limbs to spare. And Drogger can’t hate it too much because he hasn’t sent him away. Yet, that is.

" --You know, Rogard, I tell him the same thing ," Ynoro chimes in eagerly, and Drogger flings him a glare that goes completely unnoticed, "Because there could be someone waiting to fall in love --"

"With his smile?" Rogard finishes, and flashes a brilliant one as demonstration.

" With his smile ," Ynoro agrees approvingly, and beams back.

From the dismay on Drogger’s face, he seems to think he’s made a very big mistake.

...

"You know, you’d probably hurt less if you weren’t sleeping on the floor," Binny remarks reproachfully, watching from the top of the stairs as Khobi staggers his way up in stiff, jolty movements.

He has to stop about halfway up to massage some life back into his thighs. And then again a few steps later to roll a knot out of one of his shoulders.

"You’re saying I should just suck it up and get in bed with him?" he deadpans, grimacing as he starts back up the stairs.

There are a few more flights before they make it back to his room, and he’s not looking forward to them at all.

The tournament, and it’s promise of riches and fame and the favour of the king has gotten a whole lot of the men all riled up, and training has been pretty intense, considering that Khobi’s one of them.

He’s sore, pretty much constantly, although Binny has a small point in that part of that is definitely his own, stubborn fault.

"You’d probably sleep better, is all I’m saying," the servant shrugs, in an I tried kind of way, "And a proper mattress is a lot more comfortable than a pile of blankets.

And this castle gets cold in winter. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have someone to, y’know... Keep you warm .

" The if you know what I mean goes unsaid, but Khobi definitely knows what he means, and the insinuation makes him glower.

"I’m not sleeping with him ," he snaps crossly, "I’d rather freeze."

"You say that now," Binny snickers, because he’s out of Khobi’s reach, "But the cold makes people do crazy things. Or wait...is it hunger? I forget."

" Whatever , Binny," Khobi huffs, and groans with relief as he finally makes it to the top of the stairs. "Just... Ugh , how much further...?"

"Hey, you brought this on yourself," Binny chides, but grins, and offers Khobi a shoulder to lean on so he can take some of the weight off his cramping legs. "Come on. You’ll feel better after a bath."

The walk back to his room has never felt longer. He’s pretty sure there weren’t this many stairs yesterday.

Obviously sleeping on a proper bed for the first time in he’s forgotten how long has gone and made him soft. He just needs to give it some time, his body will get used to the floor again. Eventually.

Until then, well, it’s going to suck, a bit.

Thankfully Loac’s nowhere in sight when they finally arrive back at the room, although from the state of the bed and the pile of clothes scattered across the floor, he’s definitely been there.

Probably recently, too, there’s a distinct, telltale humidity to the air that Khobi doesn’t really want to linger on. Binny seems to share the sentiment.

"Gods, just being in here makes me want a bath," he remarks with a small grimace, knowing that someone’s going to have to make that bed sooner or later, and since he’s in the area already --in the room, already, in fact --it’s more than likely that that someone will end up being him.

"Yeah, well, get in line," Khobi snorts, and he’s not kidding. He’s been looking forward to a bath since he’d finished his laps this morning, and Binny promised him a bath.

"Of course, my lord ," Binny snickers playfully, and as much as Khobi hates being called that, he knows Binny doesn’t mean anything by it, so he lets it slide. "I’m going to straighten up the bed. Would you start filling the bath?"

Khobi sees no reason to refuse so he heads through towards the bathroom --because of course the prince has not only a massive bedroom, but one with a separate room for bathing. It’s so unnecessary.

If the bath had’ve been in the bedroom, he would’ve figured out sooner that there was already someone in it.

Because of course there is.

Khobi’s pretty sure he’s seen Loac naked more than he’s seen him with clothes on. Which is never a good statistic.

And right now, he’s all dewy skin, and dripping hair, and body in a rich, full flush from the steaming bath.

"Ah," is all Khobii manages to come up with as a warm gust of air buffets him and sends heat rising to his cheeks.

Loac, chest deep in water and arms hanging over the rim on full display, cracks open an eyelid at the interruption and clucks his teeth, clearly annoyed.

Which doesn’t tally up considering how little he seems to care about being walked in on when he’s fucking someone into a mattress. "Wait. What are you doing here??"

"...Uh? Having a bath?" he mutters flatly, easily matching Khobi’s level of irritation as he slowly sweeps a handful of dark hair back off his face.

The movement makes his biceps ripple. "...You know, there are easier ways to see me naked," he adds casually, "...Like asking."

"Like I want to see that," Khobi scoffs, and finds he really wants to punch the smug expression off Loac’s face.

"Right," he drawls flatly, "So you barged in here because...?"

"I want a bath."

"So get in then," Loac smirks, eyes gleaming as he gestures towards the other end of the bath, "It’s big enough for two."

Over Khobi’s cold, dead body.

"Save the lines for whoever you’re gonna go fuck tonight," he snorts antagonistically, unimpressed. Loac just shrugs, like he hadn’t really expected that to work but figured he might as well try it anyway.

"It could be you," he says, undaunted and a little dismissive, like he doesn’t really care either way, "If you wanted."

"Not interested," Khobi assures him vehemently, so he gets the message. Again, Loac just shrugs, and he gets the feeling that maybe he wasn’t even listening.

"Your loss," he sniffs, closing his eyes and sinking deeper into the bath until it’s just his head above water.

"...Are we done here? I’m not done with my bath." And like an entitled little shit, he calls to Khobi’s back as he turns on his heel to storm out, "...And close the door behind you."

Khobi makes sure to slam the door hard enough to rattle it in its bolts. And in a flash of childishness anger that he’s not exactly proud of, he tosses the closest pile of Loac’s clothes out the nearest window. Much to Binny’s dismay.

"Khobi, I just folded those!"